


Rath Laewa

by Lingwiloke



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Angst, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Turin of Too Many Names, invented Avari customs as deux ex machina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lingwiloke/pseuds/Lingwiloke
Summary: Afterwards Túrin sought out Gwindor, and said to him: "Gwindor, dear friend, you are falling back into sadness; do not so! For your healing will come in the houses of your kin, and in the light of Finduilas.”Then Gwindor stared at Túrin, but he said nothing and his face was clouded."Why do you look upon me so?" said Túrin. "Often your eyes have gazed at me strangely of late. How have I grieved you? I have opposed your counsels; but a man must speak as he sees, nor hide the truth that he believes, for any private cause. I would that we were one in mind; for to you I owe a great debt, and I shall not forget it:""Will you not?" said Gwindor. "Nonetheless your deeds and your counsels have changed my home and my kin. Your shadow lies upon them. Why should I be glad, who have lost all to you?"(The Children of Hurin, Chapter X: Túrin in Nargothrond, 166-167)





	1. Túrin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zimra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimra/gifts).



> I hope this is to your liking, dear giftee! Enjoy :)
> 
> Beta by Goldilocks. Thank you, dearest :3

He should have known.

He should have known, after seeing how his last attempt to lift Gwindor's spirits had gone, that approaching the topic anew would not go over well. But how could he not, after such cryptic declarations from his friend?

_"Why should I be glad, who have lost all to you?"_

How could he let that stand between them? Gwindor might not be in his right mind, but that had not kept him from guiding and caring for Túrin when he had been maddened by grief himself. So how could Túrin not try all he might to return the favour now?

***

_He found Gwindor on one of the balconies overlooking the Narog river, brooding. When Túrin asked him to join him for a private conversation, he merely sighed wearily._

_"I do not know what else there is to say."  he said. "You cannot change who you are, as much as you might wish to; and I have brought you to my home and must live with the consequences."_

_"Does it pain you so that the council has listened to my advice as of late, and not yours? " Túrin asked, determined to not let him get away so easily. "They do not wish to scorn you and neither do I, but we must do what we perceive is best for the kingdom, can you not see that? I bid you, let not fear and sorrow cloud your judgement, and sour our friendship. Nargothrond is strong, and we shall make it stronger still! If you cannot see our hope yourself, do you have no trust in your people? In your kin and king? ...In your friends?"_

_"Cloud my judgement... Is that what you think? I am no longer the warrior I once was, crippled as I am; and well I know you think me less for my weakness. Still I wished that, if only for the sake of our companionship on the road, you would not disregard my counsel so easily because of it."_

_"Do not speak so!" Túrin said, and stepping forward, he captured Gwindor's hand in both of his. "I may pity you, for the grief and sorrow that has been visited upon you, but only because I love you; and my regard for you is not lessened because of it."_

_"And yet you call me a coward, a skulker in the woods who is looked upon with shame even by those he loves."_

_At this, Túrin's heart sank - how could his friend have misunderstood him so? True, he did not approve of Nargothrond's warfare of ambush and deceit, but he had never meant to shame his friend with his words. He hurried to explain. "That is not what I said, or at least not what was meant; yet I can see now that I have chosen my words unwisely." He squeezed Gwindor's hand. "I never intended to scorn you thus. I do wish for open, honest battle, that you know, but it was not my place to chide you for being of a different mind in this matter, knowing what you have gone through-"_

_He was interrupted by an angry exclamation from Gwindor, who tore his hand from Túrin's grasp and stepped back in sudden agitation. "And again with this!"  he cried. "You would honey your words for me out of pity," He spat the word out in disgust, "yet they still mean the same. It surely is kind of you to seek to soothe the frightened child instead of laughing at his fear of the dark. But that is all I am to you, am I not right? A frightened child to be soothed and send off to bed while the elders talk!"_

_This was not going well, at all. "Dear friend, please, if you would only listen-"_

_But Gwindor shook his head. "No. I am done listening. I do not need your pity, nor your counsel; keep them to yourself." His lips thinned, as another thought seemed to come to him. "Or go and find the princess. I am sure she will be most willing to listen to your reassurances."_

_With that, he turned and left, leaving Túrin to stare at the empty air in misery._

***

He should have known.

He had tried his best, and yet once again all he said seemed doomed to make matters ever worse between them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Túrin calling Gwindor a "skulker in the woods" is a reference to their discussion regarding Nargothrond's defense strategies in _The Children of Húrin_ : "And do those that you speak of love such skulkers in the woods, hunting strays like a wolf, better than one who puts on his helm and figured shield, and drives away the foe. be they far greater than all  
> his host?" (The Children of Húrin, 162)


	2. Finduilas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the fun with the names starts:  
> Mormegil - "Black Blade", a name given to Túrin by the inhabitants of Nargothrond for his blade Gurthang and his prowess in battle  
> Agarwaen - "Bloodstained", the name with which Túrin introduced himself when arriving in Nargothrond, meant to hide his true identity. Refers also to the death of his friend Beleg by his own hand.  
> Thurin - "The Secret", a name Finduilas gave Túrin, because she did not think Agarwaen fit him very well (poor woman was way too hopeful)
> 
> Basically, you can assume that any unfamiliar name you encounter here is a variation of Túrin.

Finduilas had known she was in trouble from the moment the Mormegil had smiled at her for the first time.

He was very handsome, and very noble, and if the tales she heard from the soldiers were to be believed, his prowess and valour in battle was surpassed by none.

But it was his smile, so unexpected from the grim, taciturn man that had been brought into the courtroom that fateful day, that had set her heart aflame in a way that had heretofore been reserved for one other only.

He smiled more frequently now, and spoke more frequently too, and when he did, people listened. And she could not help it - she sought him out, again and again, passing through the hall just when she knew he would return from patrol, lingering in the gardens near the patch of daylilies she knew he loved, taking the longer way down to her father's study just so she might catch a glimpse of him out on the training grounds-

It had to stop.

Not only was he mortal, as much as he might seem like a lord of her kin, but also - she must not do this to Gwindor. He had suffered so much already, and she loved him still - she did, for all of the Mormegil's charms, and how could this be, to feel her heart ache with love at seeing her betrothed and yet skip a beat at a glance from his mortal companion in the same breath? How could she so betray her lover's trust and devotion?

It had to stop.

Looking at her pale face in the mirror, drawn from lack of sleep and a night of tossing and turning, Finduilas watched it settle into a look of determination. Today, she would not go looking for the Mormegil. Today she would visit her beloved, and they would walk in the gardens and sit by the fountain and talk and enjoy the sun, and all would be well. Today-

A knock at the door interrupted her musings, and on her word a maid stuck her head through the door.

"Milady, the Mormegil is waiting in the hall. He is asking to see you."

***

She entered the parlour with her heart beating in her throat, and her thoughts in disarray. What could he want? Had he noticed her covert attentions? Had he come to chastise her and remind her of her duty towards her betrothed and her kin? Or maybe... maybe... might he have seen her attentions for what they were not, what they could not be? What should she say then...?

One look at his face made her stomach twist with worry. He seemed distraught, agitated, shifting in place as if barely keeping himself from pacing. Yet he greeted her courteously, and met her eye easily; so it was not to talk about her he had come? He let himself be guided to the settee and accepted her offer of a drink. But the moment she had sat down facing him, he set down the glass and leaned forward eagerly.

"My lady, I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you at so early an hour. But there is a matter that weighs heavily on my mind, and that I hope you in your wisdom and kindness will be able to advise me in."

Instinctively, she leaned forward in her seat as well, matching his posture. "I will aid you as best I can, Thurin" she replied. "What matter is it that so occupies your thoughts?"

At his next words, she felt the colour drain from her face.

"I have come to speak about Gwindor."

"What about him?" she asked, taking care to keep her voice steady, and hoping he had not taken note of her sudden change of mood.

"You will have noticed" he said, frowning, "that he has grown more and more withdrawn of late, and where at first the comforts of home and the joy of your presence seemed to lighten his cares, it now seems as if the shadow of the Enemy is encroaching on his mind once again. I have tried to give him what small comfort I can, and to assure him of his safety and the care of those he loves, but it seems he bears a grudge against me that I cannot truly understand, nor assuage, and all my words have been ill received." He shook his head. "It pains me to see him so, and to be unable to mend the rift that has sundered our friendship; and I knew not how to help myself but by turning to you, who is closest to him in heart and mind."

He continued to speak, relaying his attempts to comfort Gwindor and their failure, but Finduilas was barely listening. She knew very well what truly ailed Gwindor, she was certain of that; and guilt settled heavily in her stomach. What advice could she give? Nothing she might say would be of any help to him, or to Gwindor. Why did her damned heart have to be so faithless, when all she wished was to do right by them both?

She was thrown out of her dark thoughts by a hand on her shoulder, and Thurin's voice: "My lady - are you well?"

Somehow, it had escaped her notice that he had risen from his seat and approached her, crouching down beside her. His expression was concerned, his hand on her shoulder warm and steady. His face was far too close to hers.

"...Finduilas?"

The too-familiar - inappropriate! she heard her father’s disapproving voice in her head - address snapped her out of her trance. Hurridly, she scrambled backwards in her seat, pushed herself up and brought a few steps of distance between herself and the Mormegil. "F-fine. I am fine. Please, there is no need to worry."

Standing there, she was intimately aware of her thundering heart her quickened breath, and with a sinking feeling she realized that he must be also.

He stood up slowly, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, they merely stood there facing each other, frozen.

And, unexpectedly, as she stood there flushed from both embarrassment and a desire she must not name, a strange calm crept over Finduilas, and a new determination settled into her heart.

She took a deep breath.

"Thurin." she said carefully, "There is something you should know."


	3. Gwindor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faelivrin - "the gleam of the sun on the pools of Ivrin", name given to Finduilas by Gwindor

Once his initial wrath had cooled down, all Gwindor could feel was a bone-deep exhaustion. It had felt good, in the heat of the moment, to give his frustrations an outlet, but he rued it already. It would solve nothing, and only serve to make Túrin more determined to convince Gwindor to come around to his point of view. That man was a stubborn one if he had ever seen one.

And he could not even honestly blame him for it all, or – and that irked him all the more – make himself truly dislike the man, try as he might. In the end, he had no-one to blame for his current dilemma but his own foolishness and recklessness, he thought miserably. Charging at the enemy without heed for danger or strategy, getting himself captured like a green recruit...

They had all been fools, to believe they stood a chance against a power that had defied the Valar themselves. Túrin would go that way, too, and take all of Nargothrond down with him.

And Faelivrin, Faelivirin... that was a matter that did not bear thought.

 

Despite his weariness, he sat alone in the gardens for a long time after his conversation with Túrin, and did not return home until late in the evening. He did not think he could bear his parent's inquiries just then, and it would be easier to get away claiming exhaustion if he returned after a long day out; otherwise, they would merely worry all the more.

The next morning followed a restless night, and came with a lethargy he found difficult to shake. He fled the hustle and bustle of the house as soon as he could excuse himself from the morning meal without arousing too much attention. He wandered the streets aimlessly, lost in dark thought, until he found his steps had brought him once again to their balcony, the place where Faelivirin and he had pledged their troth all these years ago, on the eve before he had left for the battle that cost him everything.

Only rarely came anyone to this secluded spot, which was exactly why they had chosen it for their rendezvous so long ago. Here he had found a measure of peace before, even if it was tinged with nostalgia, and he hoped it would bring him some rest today.

Except Túrin was already waiting there.

Gwindor almost turned around on the spot, but Túrin had already seen him and was waving him over, and he did not have the energy to make an excuse.

"My friend, I owe you an apology." Túrin began, before Gwindor had had a chance to say a word.

"Oh? And I thought the reverse was the case." Eru, he was so tired.

"I have hurt you by my words, and for that I wish, again, to apologize. I would ask you to-"

Gwindor interrupted him, before he could start their old argument over yet again. "Agarwaen." he said, consciously choosing to honour the man’s choice of moniker. He laid all the energy he could still muster into the next words. "I apologize for my harsh words yesterday, but please - I do not think there is any point in continuing that discussion."

To his surprise, Túrin nodded. "You speak true, and I can see that now. I have spoken to the Lady Finduilas, as you suggested, and I believe I now better understand your grievances."

"I see. I am glad." Gwindor said, leaning heavily against the parapet and nodding along. Surely if he did not contradict Túrin any longer, he would leave him be eventually?

Instead, Túrin looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for more. When Gwindor kept silent, he stepped forward to the railing and looked out over the land beyond, though he did not seem to truly be aware of the sight. He had a strange air about him, Gwindor noticed. He seemed restless, almost... fearful?

He was silent for a long while, and Gwindor almost thought he would not speak again. But then he said: "I have learned of the matters of the heart that trouble the lady so, and thus, you."

 

It took Gwindor a moment to grasp the full meaning of the words, but when he did, it was as if he had been doused with ice water. He could only stare at Túrin, who kept on talking quickly.

"Believe me when I say, had I known what feelings she harboured for me, and how much this must weigh on the both of you, I would have spoken to you much sooner. But as matters stand now-“

 "So she has told you?" A part of his mind wondered distractedly how his voice could still sound so calm.

"Yes. And..."

"And you come to me, with this? Why?"

Túrin had turned back to him, his gaze intent. "I meant not to further your grief, but lessen it. I- we-"

"Why would you even care?" He could feel the blood returning to his face, and with it came the anger. How could she do this to him; and now that he knew - he knew! -how could Túrin dare to shove his loss in his face, to humiliate him so?

"Does it please you to torment me so?" He found his voice raising enough to carry to the corridors beyond, and could not bring himself to care who might hear. "What do you still want from me?

"I want _you!_ "


	4. Rath Laewa

"...What?" Gwindor croaked, once he had found his voice again. His mind was reeling, and his heart felt like it might jump out of his chest. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, his world had been turned upside down - left was right, up was down, and nothing made sense anymore. Túrin… loved him? Loved _him_? He simply could not wrap his mind around the thought.

“You cannot love me.” He said, stupidly.

“Why not?”

 _Because Finduilas loves you_ , he thought. _Because I am broken_ , he thought.

 “I am promised to another.” Gwindor said instead, as if that had ever mattered in love, as if he had not spent all morning in dark thoughts about what he supposed was Túrin’s love for his betrothed.

Túrin’s face fell. “Yes.” He said. “I know. However-“ He closed his eyes, and his next words tumbled over his lips in a rush:

"Well - you see, when Finduilas – the princess – when she told me, I found myself unsure how to respond, as I have never- Well, she was very calm at first but then she began to speak of you. She grew quite distraught, so I sought to comfort her, for it pained me to see her so - not merely for seeing her hurt, but also... I-" He raked his hand through his hair, giving him the look of a disheveled youngster instead of the lord of men he was. "It is only - I understood all too well her feelings, as I... found myself in a similar situation..."

He had never heard Túrin speak so incoherently, Gwindor realized absent-mindedly. This clearly was a dream. He must have overdosed on the sleeping draught the previous night. The healer had told him to be careful with the dosage, had she not? He rubbed his face and tried to will himself awake, but when he looked up again, Túrin was still there. He had come even closer.

"But then a thought came to me, and I remembered a tale I had heard long ago during my time among the Marchwardens of Doriath - of a custom among the Avari. They name it _rath laewa_ , Path of the Many, and it is a teaching that allows for the sharing of the bonds of love between not merely one man and his wife, but between more than two lovers, and between both m-man and man and woman and woman as well. It is believed that for some, their life’s path is too wide and varied to be walked with one companion only, and those will seek out another to accompany them upon their journey and share in their joys and sorrows. This I told Finduilas, and we thought-“

He swallowed, seeming lost for words.

“My lady,” he finally said hoarsely, “I do believe your presence would do more good than harm now, for my words fail me.”

At his words, Finduilas slowly appeared from the shadows of the corridor, and hesitantly came up to them both.

"His words seemed strange to me as well, at first", she said. "But I see hope for happiness for all of us in this foreign custom." She took Gwindor’s hand in hers; she was still wearing the delicate silver ring he had given her so long ago, he noticed suddenly. His had been lost forever in the to the hands of the enemy, yet he had never once forgotten the promise he had made upon it.

"I did not lie when I said I still bear love for you - I lost you once and I do not know if I can bear to lose you again. Yet I cannot deny that my heart has love for Thurin as well, and it is not the love of kinship." She blushed at these words, but held his gaze. "I am not familiar with the ways of the Avari, and I do not know yet where they might lead, but I am willing to try. Will you walk this new path with me - with us?" 

Gwindor felt light-headed. He loved Finduilas, that much he knew without a doubt. But she loved another, was that not what this should be about? And what to make of Túrin’s confession? That revelation was so new to him, he did not even know how to feel about it. And yet…

“My friend” ,said Túrin. “Know that I will not ask of you what you cannot give. Whatever you decide, I will heed it; but do know that I treasure our companionship greatly, whatever form it shall take, and I would not have this matter come between is, if there is ought I can do to prevent it.”

Gwindor looked between Finduilas, his hand clasped tightly in hers and her face anxious, and Túrin, whose grip on the balustrade had tightened so much his knuckles grew white.

It meant something to them, he realized with sudden clarity, that he be a part of this, whatever it was. He would not have hindered Finduilas, had she wished to follow her heart towards Túrin, as much as it pained him, and she knew that. They both knew by now, more than likely. Yet they were here instead, with him. _He_ meant something to both of them; he was wanted here, and …loved, whatever that meant. And maybe – maybe – he was not as lost as he had thought himself; maybe-

This was a strange path they wished to go, and he could not foresee where it might lead. He would be a fool to follow.

Well.

He had been a fool in life before, he could be a fool for love, too.

He smiled tentatively, and unthinking, reached for Túrin with his maimed arm, who gripped it without hesitation.

"I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering:  
> "rath laewa" is my attempt to translate "path of the many" into Sindarin/Doriathrin: rath/rad (path) + laew (frequent, many) + -a (genitive case marker in Doriathrin?/archaic Sindarin as in Dagnir Glaurunga - Glaurung's Bane)  
> ...Feel free to correct me there ^-^'


End file.
